I am the flag of the United States of America.
       My name is Old Glory.

       I fly atop the world's tallest buildings.
       I stand watch in America's halls of justice.

       I fly majestically over institutions of learning.
       I stand guard with power in the world.

       Look up ... and see me.

       I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.
       I stand for freedom.

       I am confident.
       I am arrogant.
       I am proud.

       When I am flown with my fellow banners,
       my head is a little higher,
       my colors a little bit truer.

       I bow to no one!

       I am recognized all over the world.
       I am worshipped - I am saluted.

       I am loved - I am revered.
       I am respected -- and I am feared.

       I have fought in every battle of every
       war for more then 200 years.
       
       I was flown at Valley Forge, Gettysburg,
       Shiloh and Appomattox.
      
       I was there at San Juan Hill,
       the trenches of France,
       in the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome
       and the beaches of Normandy, Guam.
       Okinawa, Korea and KheSan, Saigon,
       Vietnam know me,

       I was there.
       I led my troops,
       I was dirty, battleworn and tired,
       but my soldiers cheered me
       And I was proud.

       I have been burned, torn and trampled
       on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
       It does not hurt, for I am invincible.
       I have been soiled upon, burned, torn
       and trampled on the streets of my country.
       And when it's by those! whom I've served in battle -
       it hurts.
      
       But I shall overcome - for I am strong.

       I have slipped the bonds of Earth
       and stood watch over the uncharted
       frontiers of space from my vantage point
       on the moon.
      
       I have borne silent witness
       to all of America's finest hours.
       But my finest hours are yet to come.

       When I am torn into strips
       and used as bandages
       for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
       When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
       Or when I lie in the trembling arms
       of a grieving parent
       at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,
      
       I am proud.



       MY NAME IS OLD GLORY
       LONG MAY I WAVE.
       DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN
       LONG MAY I WAVE


       PLEASE FORWARD MY MESSAGE TO ALL WHO
       STILL LOVE AND RESPECT ME,
       THAT I MAY FLY PROUDLY FOR
       ANOTHER TWO HUNDRED YEARS.